


Lost and Found

by semperfortis



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate S2 Finale, Gen, Mention of some ships but not focus of story, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfortis/pseuds/semperfortis
Summary: The outbreak of war brings Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan to Aramis' monastery in hopes of reclaiming him as their own. Will they find what they lost?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Lost and Found

If their horses didn’t need breaks, d'Artagnan was certain nothing would stop Porthos from getting to Aramis quicker. The big Musketeer had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the journey, and even Athos wasn’t his usual stoic self. Since Aramis' departure (not to mention the new status of Captain), Athos had seemed a little lost. Aramis would have known what to say. He always did (whether or not it was the appropriate thing to say...well, that was often debatable).

D'Artagnan was relieved when they finally arrived at the monastery. They were so close to getting Aramis back. Without him the garrison felt empty and watching Porthos smash others during training wasn’t the same when there was no commentary by Aramis. The young Musketeer all but leapt off his horse but was surprised to see Porthos not do the same. As Athos dismounted at a less swift pace, d'Artagnan asked Porthos what was wrong.

“Are we doing the right thing?” At the questioning glances from his friends, Porthos elaborated further. “He made his choice. He chose to leave this life. Who are we to drag him back?”

Athos walked closer and placed reassuring hand on Porthos' knee. “Aramis would want to be with us, Porthos. He would never forgive himself if we went to war without telling him,”

“Yeah, I know. But-”

“Porthos,” interrupted d'Artagnan. “You said it yourself. It doesn’t feel right without Aramis,”

“Besides, as Captain, I most certainly cannot go into war without my finest shooter. It will reflect badly on my captaincy.” Athos added with a wry smile.

“Ha! I knew you had an ulterior motive to bring Aramis back!” laughed d'Artagnan.

“Come on then, let’s go get our brother back.” Porthos smiled widely before dismounting and leading the way towards the monastery.

They hadn’t even made it passed the gates before they spotted Aramis. He was balancing precariously in an apple tree and throwing the fruits down to the children gathered below. They had made a game out of it. Each child was scrambling around trying to collect as many apples as possible for their own baskets.

Who would have thought the Musketeer with the deadliest aim would be using his skills to make a game of apples? Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan allowed themselves a few moments to observe Aramis. He was dressed simply, as befitting a would-be-monk, but the modest clothing wasn’t the only change.

“He’s shaved off his beard!” came the indignant shout from d'Artagnan. “What did he do that for?”

“He looks so young,” Athos mused.

“He looks strange,” Porthos corrected. “I’ve never seen him without scruff on his face. It’s not natural.”

D'Artagnan shook his head sadly. “I can’t believe he shaved his beard,”

“It’s alright, lad, just because you are incapable of growing a beard doesn’t mean Aramis can’t grow one again,” Porthos gave d'Artagnan a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Hey! I can-”

“Gentlemen,” Athos interrupted. “I believe we have a Musketeer to take home,” “Yeah, we do,” smiled Porthos.

* * *

To say Aramis was surprised to see his friends would have been a lie. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came to see him, but he didn’t expect it to be so soon. With a soft shake of his head and a big smile, Aramis quickly made his way down the tree.

“Children,” he addressed his apple catching competitors. “Meet my friends, the brave Musketeers Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan.” He gestured at each of them in turn and once the children finished twittering about real life Musketeers, Aramis sent them homewards.

He then found himself grabbed into a hug.

“Ah, Porthos, it's good to see you.” Aramis held on tightly.

“Good to see you too Aramis. Been a while, hasn’t it?” Porthos grinned.

D'Artagnan meanwhile, was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Okay, my turn.”

Porthos chuckled and reluctantly released Aramis.

After a quick but strong hug, d'Artagnan moved away to allow their new Captain (not that Aramis knew yet), a chance to greet their brother.

Athos stared at Aramis for a few moments. “Hmm, what look were you aiming for?”

“Thought I’d try something different,” Aramis shrugged before bursting into laughter and pulling Athos in for a hug. “So, what brings you here?” Aramis, the ever perceptive, had caught on to underlying current between his friends. “I didn’t expect you all to follow me here so soon. Surely Paris isn’t so boring without me?” Porthos and d'Artagnan glanced at Athos. “Oh, don’t tell me Athos has managed to get himself banned from the tavern near the bakery again because he intervened in a fight over Porthos' gambling habits. And now, you need me to sweet-talk the landlady so she will allow you in?” joked Aramis.

“Nothing quite so serious as that,” Athos began. “Only a simple matter of war,”

“War? What do you mean ‘war’?” Aramis felt as if his insides had clenched and turned cold.

“You know, the event or events wherein armies of two or more opposing states fight against each other in order to assert dominance. In this case, it will be France against Spain, and ideally for us, France will emerge victorious,” replied Athos.

“You’re joking?” Aramis looked at his other two friends. Any minute they would laugh and say Athos wasn't serious. Right? France couldn’t to go war against Spain. Not with the Queen's brother?

“The Captain of the King's Musketeers wouldn’t joke about this, Aramis,” Porthos smiled sadly.

“Yes, but how can France and Sp- wait did you say ‘Captain’?” It was remarkable how one's feelings could instantly change from shock to jubilation. Although the news of war disturbed him, the insinuation behind Porthos' words and the beaming smile on d'Artagnan's face, pleased Aramis greatly. Athos was his new – no, not his – the Musketeers’ new Captain. Aramis pulled Athos in for another hug. “This is wonderful news, Athos. Captain! Congratulations, brother! We all knew it would be you, it was only a matter of when. But what of Treville? Is he retiring?”

“No, he's still very much involved,” replied d'Artagnan. “Treville is the now the Minister of War,”

“’Minister’ eh? Well, he could hardly refuse the King a second time. Speaking of refusals,” Aramis turned back towards Athos. “How long did it take for you to accept the captaincy? I can’t imagine you jumped with joy when you were appointed?”

“No, I didn’t. The position of Captain never appealed to me,”

“And that’s what will make you a great Captain,” Porthos grinned.

The momentary flicker of doubt in Athos’ eyes didn’t go unnoticed by his friends.

“Porthos is right,” Aramis smiled brightly. “You’ll be a wonderful Captain because you’re a wonderful person,”

“And a wonderful Musketeer,” added Porthos.

“But mainly because you will have the honour of leading a regiment full of wonderful Musketeers,” finished d'Artagnan with a smirk.

Athos groaned. “I knew we should have left d'Artagnan at the garrison. He always gets more audacious around Aramis,”

The four friends shared a laugh but perhaps it was more to do with the relief of being together again, even if it may just be a brief time of togetherness.

“So, I’m barely gone a week, and you’ve already got yourself involved in a war?” Aramis placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I can’t leave you alone for a few days before you start going mad,”

“What can we say? We needed something exciting to incite you back,” Athos sardonic smile didn’t mask the worry in his eyes, at least not from someone who knew him so well.

Aramis looked down, unable to meet the eyes of his friends – his brothers. When he made that vow, Aramis knew it meant leaving his brothers behind to face whatever that may come at them alone. He couldn’t go against his promise to God. Besides, he wasn’t a Musketeer anymore.

But he had made many broken promises to God before. When he was seven, he promised never to touch the pistol hanging in the workroom. Three days later, Aramis was shooting at his father's former business partner who wanted the distillery for himself (Aramis missed, but he got his point across). He was told off for his reckless behaviour, however, the following birthday he received his own pistol (he was under strict instructions to not go near, let alone touch it, without his father's supervision - he broke that promise too).

A few years ago, Aramis promised no more pursuing women who were married, betrothed, or otherwise involved with someone else. However, then the lovely Adele Bisset bumped into his life (quite literally as she was fleeing from a thief), and what sort of gentleman would he be if he didn’t help her?

Let’s not forget the time he promised he wouldn’t scare the new recruits (which included a not-yet-commissioned-but-it's-only-a-matter-of-time Athos, and a pauldron-is-still-squeaky-clean Porthos). But he managed to do that anyway by almost freezing to death in Savoy.

Moral of the story? Promises tend to be broken, especially if they’re made by Aramis. His thoughts were interrupted by d'Artagnan's hand on his shoulder – the right shoulder that was once adorned with a leather fleur-de-lys.

“We won’t force you to return, Aramis,” d'Artagnan said softly. “It’s your decision,”

“We just wanted you to know what your choices are,” Athos said as he moved to Aramis' left.

Aramis looked at Porthos standing right in front of him. “Anything to add, my friend?”

Porthos stared at his boots, closed his eyes briefly, before taking a deep breath and meeting Aramis' gaze. “Nahh, I know you'll make the right choice,” he grinned.

* * *

A short while later, after they had declined the offer to stay and rest, Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan found themselves preparing their horses for departure. If they wished to get back in time, they would have to leave soon. As Aramis had pointed out before heading inside, it wouldn’t do for the new Captain of the King's Musketeers to be absent for so long.

When the silence became too loud, Porthos turned to his friends and told them they better not die during the war. Athos reassured him that d'Artagnan had no plans on dying any time soon – not with a newly-wedded wife waiting for him. D’Artagnan retorted by asking who would lead the Musketeers into battle if their fearless leader found himself dead. Before Athos could respond, they heard another voice.

“I always thought I could add an extra charm and elegance to the position of Captain. I certainly have the flair for it, don’t you think?” The question was accompanied with a wink and an infectious grin, and if he still had his masterpiece of facial hair, then no doubt there would have been a moustache twirl too.

“I’ll make sure not to die then,” Athos smirked. “Who knows what horrors the regiment would face under your captaincy?”

“’One Hundred and One Ways to Clean Your Pistol - Lest You Remain the Apprentice Musketeer Forever',” suggested d’Artagnan.

“'And the Wily Wonders of the Womanly Ways',” Porthos added with a grin of his own.

“I cannot be that transparent!” The mock wounded look on Aramis' face had d'Artagnan and Porthos dissolve into laughter and drew a another smirk from Athos. A

s the laughter died down, Aramis found himself being thoroughly inspected by his friends. He had gone inside to make arrangements. The Abbot had not been pleased, but admitted that as a former Musketeer who had not yet taken his monastic orders, Aramis' duty lay with Crown and country. Upon his return, Aramis would reclaim his position within the monastery should he wish to do so.

And so, Aramis gathered his belongings and changed into what he had of his uniform. His beloved hat was sitting on top of his curls, and his well worn boots and long coat were back (it felt good to be wearing leather again). He looked like his old self, minus the beard of course, but he wasn’t too worried about that (Porthos had once remarked that Aramis could grow at least three beards in the time it took d’Artagnan to grow stubble).

“Do I pass muster, Captain?” Instead of an immediate reply, Athos rummaged in his bags for something. A certain blue something. He brought out the familiar piece of material, while Porthos unbuckled the belt Aramis wore over his coat.

“Your flair isn’t quite the same without this,” said Athos before tying the sash around Aramis' waist.

“There, you're looking better already,” d'Artagnan smiled.

“Just one thing missing though,” Porthos pointed out. “Here, you put your belt back on, and I’ll get my bag,” Aramis buckled his belt securely over his blue sash, and watched as his friend brought out another familiar item. Porthos offered it to him with a smile.

“No, my friend. I can’t accept this,” Aramis gently moved Porthos’ hand away from himself.

“Why?” asked Athos.

“I return as a soldier, not a Musketeer,”

“But, Aramis, you-” d'Artagnan started to protest.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos' slight warning tone quietened down the young Musketeer. If Aramis had made his mind up, then they couldn’t do anything to change it.

Porthos shook his head. “Guess we'll just have to look after it for you then,” he said and carefully wrapped Aramis' pauldron and placed it back into his own bag.

* * *

(The return to the garrison was filled with Aramis being brought up to date with recent happenings, which included: “I got married – you missed it!” “Serge tried out a new recipe, Athos reckons he never tried anything so vile” “I’m sure Madame d’Artagnan made a beautiful bride,” “Nonsense, Porthos, it wasn’t Constance but d’Artagnan who blushed more during their wedding,” “Treville has a fancy office in the palace now,” “We’ll be getting more cadets, should be fun,” “Not if you grin like that, Porthos - the new cadets will get scared,” “I most certainly did not blush more than Constance,” “But you admit you blushed, right?”.)

* * *

It seemed the journey homewards was much shorter with Aramis' presence. Porthos was able to forget about the impending war and lose himself in the companionship. This felt much better - the four of them together, as it should be. Easier to keep them all safe this way. Although, he wasn’t sure for how long Aramis was going to remain safe. Forget the war, Aramis should worry about what was waiting for him at the garrison. Porthos grinned as he imagined what a treat it would be to watch. Serves Aramis right for going off like that.

Fortunately for Aramis, the welcoming Musketeers took a long time to greet him. There were cheers, embraces, and claps on the shoulder – Porthos couldn’t blame them though. He himself was infinitely glad to have Aramis back, and he knew their fellow comrades felt the same.

Eventually, the crowd slowly dispersed, making way for a certain red-head. Porthos thought it wise to move away from Aramis. He didn’t want to get caught in the line of fire.

“Ah, Constance, how lovely to see you! I hear you’ve been busy-”

_SLAP!_

Porthos had to admit, Constance appeared all sweet and innocent, but she had the strength to rival some Musketeers (not him though, he was obviously the strongest, but maybe d'Artagnan?).

“Ow! What was that for?” asked a surprised Aramis.

“For missing my wedding, you idiot!”

“A thousand apologies, Madame d’Artagnan,” said Aramis as he swept his hat off his head with one hand and placed the other over his heart.

Constance blushed, d'Artagnan may have blushed a little more, Athos smirked, and Porthos outright chuckled – he didn’t think he had ever seen a pair more adorable.

(Actually, that’s a lie. A couple years ago, a stray cat managed to adopt Treville, and although the then Captain was reluctant to be adopted, Jacqueline (named by Aramis) had the entire garrison wrapped around her paws. Consequently, Captain Treville was seldom seen without his furry partner in tow (his only lament was that the cat managed to befriend Richelieu too, much to the amusement of the Msuketeers). Therefore, Constance and d’Artagnan would have to take second place behind Jacqueline and Treville.)

The conversation around him continued in the same vein, with Constance pretending to be angry and Aramis calling her ‘Madame d’Artagnan’ at every opportunity (“What a beautiful name – Constance d'Artagnan!”) until Aramis spotted something over Porthos’ shoulder.

“Looks like I’m not the only one to return,”

Porthos turned around a fraction quicker than Athos, and he had to fight his first instinct to step in front of their new Captain and shield his brother. “Do you want me to-”

“No, Porthos,” Athos sighed. “I'll sort this out.”

* * *

He steeled himself. The past few days had been eventful and Athos wasn’t sure how much more he could take. But remain strong he must.

Athos walked towards the new entrant who was giving the stable-boy instructions for her horse. She was wearing green. It had become his favourite colour on her.

He wondered what brought her here. Aramis was back, and that was all he had dared hope. Athos didn’t expect anything else – he didn’t deserve anything else.

As he approached closer, she turned around to face him.

“Captain,” she greeted coldly. Athos flinched ever so slightly – she could make an honourable title sound like a slur. She held out a stack of sealed envelopes. “I have a few items that may be of interest to you. It is amazing what wonders you can observe while waiting to board a ship,”

"What are these?" _Is this a dream?_ is what he wanted to ask.

“Apparently, I've grown accustomed to Musketeers, and would dislike seeing any of them die,” she thrust the stack into Athos’ hands. “You’ll find the spy gagged and tied in a fishing boat ready to sail tomorrow. You should probably send someone to collect him,”

“Anne, what are you doing here?”

“Perhaps, it’s best to take this discussion to your office, Captain?” And with that Milady de Winter – his Anne – stalked past him and headed towards his office, leaving Athos to wonder what lay ahead.

* * *

Dusk found Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan settled around their favourite table in the garrison. This was perhaps the last time they would get such an opportunity for a while. They shared a bottle of the finest wine Athos could find at such a short notice. It wasn’t the best – certainly not as grand as the bottles they enjoyed previously, but it would do.

The four friends were content in each other's company – there was hardly any conversation. Words unsaid were conveyed through smiles and looks.

Until Aramis broke the silence with a toast. “All for one,” he said softly.

“And one for all,” came the reply not only from his companions, but from those in the garrison who heard him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story. Let me know what you think. :-) 
> 
> (I'm new to AO3, so please forgive me if I haven't tagged things properly - I'll get the hang of things soon, I hope!)


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